


Trade In All Our Silver Bullets

by ix_tab



Series: This Is What Love Looks Like [4]
Category: Professional Wrestling, Ring of Honor, 新日本プロレス | New Japan Pro-Wrestling
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Golden Lovers, M/M, Panic Attacks, The Bucks Make A Brief Appearance, The Unforgivable Crime of Pancake Theft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-21
Updated: 2018-04-21
Packaged: 2019-04-25 18:17:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14384325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ix_tab/pseuds/ix_tab
Summary: After the events of Supercard, Kota creates a space for Kenny to be safe from the world in. There's room enough for them both.





	Trade In All Our Silver Bullets

**Author's Note:**

> Supercard got me feeling some things! Also, briefly mentions non consensual kissing.
> 
> This fic has a panic attack in it of a style that I have personally had. Because it's being written from irl experience, it may create some uncomfortable feelings in people. Please read with that in mind.
> 
> I'm aware I'm sort of treading the same ground I've explored in fic before but it's where my mind is taking me, and I'm enjoying creating it. 
> 
> I'm happy to be thought of 'the writer who likes to portray emotional conversations in bed' lmao.
> 
> Title from Kirin J Callinan's "Big Enough", the song with Jimmy Barnes screaming and about cowboys in love.

Kota watched the match quietly, the rising joy he’d felt washing away, as rage and horror set in.

He and Kenny had agreed that he wouldn’t come ringside, no matter how much they both wanted it.

Cody would consistently target one or the other to hurt and harm them. Kenny’s best chance at winning this was with Kota waiting, still coming down from the buzz of his own victory. He’d stand there in the wings, triumphant, hoist Kenny up high, celebrating their mutal wins.

And now, instead of Kenny victorious, Kota watched as the men Kenny called brothers kicked him in the face, letting Cody get the win.

He tried to reconcile it in his head. It had been a mistake, they had meant to hit Cody.

It didn’t work. He closed his eyes and saw Kenny’s anguish emblazoned in his mind.

He wanted to hurt someone. A lot of people.

When Kenny was ushered back to him, he seemed like he was stunned, in shock. He answered Kota’s questions with soft, one word responses. Kota wanted to cry for him, wanted to scream for him.

Kenny didn’t seem to have the capacity for either in him at that moment. He was simply beaten.

They sat silently, and Kota didn’t move away from him for a second. He was trying to quiet the tempest within himself.

He was waiting for the fallout.

_ _ _ _

The fallout arrived in the form of the Bucks bursting into Kenny’s dressing room.

Kota stilled himself, listening to Kenny’s tone. He sounded like he looked, exhausted, angry and sad. He couldn’t follow Matt’s fast paced English, but Kenny refused and rebuffed whatever was being said.

And then, Matt put his hands on Kenny. Kota jerked in his seat, raising his hands without thinking, but Kenny said “Don’t touch me,” to Matt, knocking the other man’s hand away. _Good,_ thought Kota. _They’ve lost their right to touch you._

Matt reached out again, and Kota exploded.

He’d watched Cody kiss Kenny’s hand as he’d lain there, stunned. He’d watched as Kenny had slumped over to the mat. He was beyond sick of the liberties taken with his own and Kenny’s bodies by all of these men.

He let a little bit of it out as he grabbed at the brothers, pushing them out, just itching for a chance to do something more. But they had clearly given in, and all they did was plead with Kenny and walk backwards out of the door, begging to be given another chance.

Neither of them pushed back against him, sounding almost as miserable as Kota thought they deserved to.

Distantly, he wondered if Kenny was shocked to hear him be so aggressive, but he couldn’t stop himself. He never wanted to be the sort of man who actually hit people in anger, but right now? He wasn’t afraid to raise his voice. He was used to walking away from uncomfortable situations. He wouldn’t walk away from this.

Kota closed the door on the brothers’ sad faces and turned to Kenny, who sat in his chair, drinking water, staring off into the distance. The animation that had lit him when the Bucks had been in the room had left him.

“Kenny,” Kota said, unsure exactly what to say. Would Kenny be angry that he’d thrown them out? He didn’t think so. If Kenny had been physically capable, he’d have done it himself.

Kenny just reached for him and Kota went, helping him up, starting the process of dressing him. Kenny didn’t even want a shower, and Kota tried to press the issue, knowing how much Kenny hated feeling sticky.

He just wanted to see any expression other then the tired misery on his face. But Kenny looked at him, touched his jaw and said quietly "I don’t want to spend another minute here.”

Kota couldn’t say another word.

They were out of the venue faster then Kota had thought possible. It gave him time to watch Kenny shut down into himself, curl up. He’d seen this before, far too recently, holding him after Cody’s attack with the chair. This was worse though.

Even among the despair and self loathing Kenny had been struck down with, when they had reunited, it was like an ember had finally taken in the drying, sad remains of the brambles and bracken that Kenny had built his armour out of.

Any time Kenny had looked sad, all it took was a single touch from Kota and that heat sparked back up. That night had burnt away the stagnant, clinging remains of the bad blood between them.

Kota didn’t even remember the exact words, the apologies, the forgiveness that had been shared between them. It had been an experience that left them a fresh start, nervous and exposed but open and in love.

New skin was always raw when first touched by the sun and wind, but they had healed together.

Kenny’s friends had continued to open wounds in him.

_ _ _ _ _

Kenny had been cleared by medical of anything serious, just bruising and scrapes, but Kota could see emotional shock setting in. Kenny wasn’t a small man but he seemed small now, fragile. He looked like he’d been shattered.

During the drive back to the hotel, Kenny just sat there looking off into the distance. Kota had given up trying to coax a verbal response from him, but knew Kenny hadn’t shut down entirely because their fingers were laced together. 

Kenny kept gently squeezing their hands, like he was checking to see if Kota was still there. Kota squeezed back, smiling as kindly as he could. Even as broken as Kenny looked in the moment, there was still room for that sweet tenderness between them. It gave him a feeling of boundless hope. No one was going to tear them away from each other.

In their room, Kenny seemed dazed, wandering too and fro until he sat down on the bed.

“Tell me what you need, Kenny-tan,” Kota said sitting next to him, letting Kenny curl into his side.

“Just don’t…don’t leave me,” Kenny whispered back, and then his face crumpled. He wrapped his arms around Kota and began to cry into the crook of Kota’s neck. The noises he made barely sounded human, caught between keening and hyperventilating, as finally, the events of the evening crashed down.

Kenny’s body shook with his sorrow, just ugly, raw sounds that felt like knives, piercing through Kota’s soul. This wasn’t catharsis, this was almost hysteria.

He couldn’t let it continue, knew that this was the difference between letting someone mourn and letting someone hurt themselves. He pulled away from Kenny, and clenched his teeth at the gasping, sick sob that Kenny was inhaling from.

“No. No, this is not what they get to do to you. They don’t get to hurt you like this, Kenny,” Kota said fiercely. Kenny looked up at him, like no matter the language Kota spoke, no matter if he shouted or whispered Kenny couldn’t hear him. It shook him, but it didn’t change what he needed to do.

He pulled at Kenny’s unresistant, passive body, still shuddering and catching his breath, dragged him into the bathroom. Kenny stood there, swaying on his feet as Kota wet a hand towel, wiped Kenny’s face with it and then hung it around the back of his neck.

“Just breathe. Small breaths, not too deep. Count out loud to five with me,” Kota said quietly, and Kenny blinked at him, but even in this haze, Kota saw Kenny had begun to return to himself.

They stood in the cool of the bathroom, Kota keeping the towel cold and wet, Kenny counting, moving through the hitches in his voice and the moments his breath sped up, the grief in him wanting to spiral out again.

After he was sure Kenny wasn’t going to crumple to the ground, Kota ushered him into the shower and waited outside. Normally he would have jumped in, still reveling in this new time for them, Kenny’s body available and willing, wanting his touch.

Right now, he just needed to see that Kenny was present in more then a physical sense, he needed to get Kenny grounded. Kenny stumbled out, pink and warm, but he met Kota’s eyes, and he wrapped himself in the slightly worn looking hotel bathrobe.

“You know I love you, right?” Kenny asked, voice scratchy with overuse. Kota laughed and kissed him, on the forehead, on both his cheeks.

_ _ _ _

Kota was normally the heavy sleeper of the two of them, unconscious through Kenny finally coming to bed at 3am, or waking up as Kenny maneuvered around him to start training.

But this night, he was the one staring into the dark as Kenny slept. He kept a hand on Kenny, but didn’t hold him like he’d gotten back into the habit of. Kenny needed space, needed him to be there, but not to be smothered. He’d helped Kenny come down from the scary level of panic and grief he’d been at earlier on, but there was that human need to process.

Sleep wasn’t coming to him easily, though. His traitor mind wouldn’t switch off. It was like his mind had decided to play him a best of reel of every single move made against him and Kenny since they had found one another again.

And he didn’t begrudge anyone a hard hit in the ring. He gave as good as he got, he got fired up, he felt that urge to go beyond what was acceptable. Sometimes he did.

It was nothing to do with that. It was the taunts, the disrespect of their relationship and worst of all, the touching.

He thought about Cody learning over Kenny, both of them battered and bruised before he had stood up to take in the roar of the crowd, who had seemed to hate him, and to love hating him at the same time.

And then he had fallen back, captured Kenny’s twitching hand and kissed it.

Kota dug his fingers into Kenny’s arm unconsciously, and then pulled back, feeling guilty as Kenny turned over to him, eyes fluttering open.

“Ow. Bu-san please don’t kill me, I don’t have the energy to get up and make you tea,” Kenny said, a smile on his sleepy face. Kota could have cried himself, seeing something other then exhaustion or devastation in Kenny’s expression.

“You’ll be my last victim, I promise,” Kota replied, and kept his face blank as Kenny’s eyes widened.

“You are the scariest person I have ever known,” Kenny said finally, and reached out to stroke Kota’s sleep-messy hair. Kota leaned into the touch, just glad to have any sort of interaction. Kenny’s hand slowed though, and it fell down next to his face.

“No matter what happens, I’m thankful for you,” Kenny said, half muffled by pressing his face into the pillow. Kota pulled himself closer, giving into the urge to hold Kenny. Kenny moved around so he was laying on top of Kota, and he looked sad, but resolved. Sometimes Kenny shook things and sometimes they dragged him down, dark and deep.

Kota could not be more pleased that Kenny seemed to have worked through the rush of grief at pace. There was already so much of their renewed relationship being weighed down upon by the continuing strife in the bullet club.

It would have broken his heart to see Kenny be so destroyed by this latest nail in the coffin.

“We should celebrate,” Kota said, watching as Kenny’s body shook with surprised laughter.

“I’m not sure I’m up to party right now, Kota,” Kenny responded, his eyes crinkled around the corners as he smiled properly. Kota wanted to freeze the frame on this expression, on the feeling flowing between them.

Kenny’s focus was back on him, and it was good, like opening the curtains and sun shooting through rain. No matter what, there was such hope in his heart, and it kept increasing every time they moved through another trial.

“Well, you could just let me do all the work,” Kota offered. He ran his hands along Kenny’s sides, tracing the indents of muscles, noticing the warmer parts where the skin was healing from the damage inflicted in ring. Kenny shivered under the scrutiny, the touch and pressed down harder against Kota.

“You be quiet,” Kenny laughed and then leaned down closer.

“I would really like to kiss you right now,” he said quietly, and Kota closed his eyes briefly before reaching up to hold Kenny’s face still as he kissed him, short and sweet. 

Even when they kissed, Kota could tell that Kenny didn’t have the focus, wasn’t in the right frame of mind to do anything more. It tugged at his heart sharply that Kenny would try to push himself, if that’s what he thought Kota wanted.

Their past was littered with Kenny’s attempts to reach him, please him, challenge him, provoke him, but he didn’t want that to become a part of their new dynamic.

“Hey, hey. It’s ok, you’re ok,” Kota said, separating from Kenny. Kenny wasn’t smiling anymore, but the softness was still there. Kota knew he wasn’t always the best at communication, but there was a sense of pride in being able to read Kenny’s complicated signals, the way he pushed and pulled. 

“I’m sorry, Bu-san,” Kenny began but Kota flicked him on the forehead, and Kenny exaggeratedly rubbed his forehead, playfully scowling.

“Alright fine, I’m not sorry, thank you,” Kenny said, as he started to get out of bed, rummaging around in his nearby bag for easy workout clothes.

“I’m not going to go back to sleep, I need to, I don’t know, I need to stretch this out, burn through it. I’ll be back in an hour or two, “ Kenny said as Kota watched him dress.

There was even a simple pleasure in that, watching Kenny’s body bend and be hidden away by soft grey cloth.

“I’m going to sleep more. We’re going for pancakes when you get back,” Kota yawned, suddenly feeling the weight of tiredness. Kenny waved at him and left, as Kota just followed him with his eyes. He laid back, staring at the ceiling.

The room was a little colder, a little duller without Kenny in it.

_ _ _ _ 

It was a decent time of day as Kenny and he sat in the nearby diner, Kenny stealing one of Kota’s pancakes as he dutifully ate his own, much less syrup soaked breakfast.

“I know you love me because you let that happen,” Kenny said smugly. Kota raised an eyebrow, but couldn’t argue against it. He tried not to be creepy, focusing on his own food and not Kenny cheerfully eating.

Kenny’s phone buzzed and it was almost comical the way his face fell as he looked at it, waited for it to ring out.

“One of the Jacksons?” Kota asked, keeping his voice even. Kenny let out a breath. Closed his eyes tightly and then looked at Kota, steadily. There was a sad resolve in his face.

“Yeah. I can’t say what I want in the future, but right now? I don’t want to hear it. I’m so...I’m so fucking sick of all of this, I’m tired of everyone’s bullshit, even my own,” Kenny said, looking down at his food, again, aggressively failing to capture a strawberry on his fork.

Kota pushed his foot against Kenny’s under the table, reached over and ran his hand over Kenny’s own clenched fist. He felt the tension slowly leave Kenny’s body, watched his shoulders loosen.

“Whatever you want to do with this, I’m here. When I want something different, I’ll say. You aren’t alone, I’m not going anywhere,” Kota said, not wanting to be repetitive, but honestly, he felt it bore repeating. Kenny grinned at him again.

“Tell me that again after I do this,” he said, and smoothly pulled Kota’s last pancake onto his plate, cackling as Kota yelled, attracting attention from the waitress.

Kota blushed a little as she came over, and Kenny ordered him another serve, knocking his foot against Kota’s.

“They will never find your body, Kenny-tan,” Kota said, darkly. Kenny sparkled at him, gleefully taking another bite.

“Love you too, Bu-san,” Kenny replied sweetly, looking like the butter coating Kota’s pancake wouldn’t melt in his mouth.

Kota threw his head back and laughed a little, at the stress and the silliness and over it all, how strong the love was between them, no matter what.

“We’re gonna be ok,” Kenny said and Kota nodded. 

Golden, beloved, they were going to be fine.


End file.
